Hissing from the stove coincided with a war reportage. Annoyed with both, he killed the flame but the pasta kept swelling, toppling from the saucepan onto the floor, and the more he swept it up, the more there was. Soon he could reach neither door nor window.
Trapped between macaroni made from wheat grown in bloodstained fields and images of the mass grave recently discovered there, he raised his head and screamed.